for tomorrow's man
by urcool91
Summary: Instead of making Peter Pettigrew their Secret Keeper, James and Lily Potter accepted Dumbledore's offer. In 1985, the war is still raging, and Severus is forced to make a dangerous choice when he finds himself with a 5-year-old, kidnapped Harry Potter.
1. Chapter 1

_August 4_ _th_ _, 1985_

Severus Snape stared down at the bundle on the floor, trying to quell the panic that he could feel bubbling up in his chest. His face was impassive, of course, but in his mind he was swearing up a blue streak that would have made his father proud.

"Ain't it wonderful, Mr. Snape?" said Regina Fellows. Severus forced his lips into a sneer.

"Indeed," he said. "The Dark Lord will reward you handsomely for this."

The bundle shifted, whimpering slightly, bringing its tiny hand to its messy black hair. There was a goose egg there, Severus knew. Fellows, for all her ferocity, had little talent in magic, which was probably why she was so attracted to the Dark Lord in the first place. The weak sought strength; the humiliated sought validation. There was always a part of Severus that understood that and hated understanding. The bundle opened its eyes and – fine, it wasn't a bundle. It was Potter, Harry Potter, and Severus had never felt so ridiculously trapped in his life.

"You 'ave to call Him, Mr. Snape," Fellows said. "You're the only one of us able to, the only one with the Mark." Her voice was throaty with awe and jealousy. Severus nodded.

"Are we certain, absolutely certain that this is the right boy?" he said. "If we call Him and we are wrong, it will be-"

"Looks just like 'is father, 'e does. James Potter was Quidditch Captain my second and third year."

"Indeed." There was nothing to be done. To refuse to call the Dark Lord now would only serve to blow his cover. He would call the Dark Lord, and Harry Potter would die. "Give me some privacy. To contact Him is no small task." Fellows nodded seriously and left the room. Severus sighed, closed his eyes, and flicked up his left sleeve, trying to reorder his Occlumency shields.

Replace the panic with eagerness, replace the worry with revulsion – no, wait, hatred is better. No matter what, his Master always believed in his hatred. It seemed that Potter and Black had been good for something, if only for the emotional material to make his thoughts seem convincing. Lock the half-formed plans of rescue in a box in the back of his mind and throw away the key. Muster some doubt of the boy's identity, so that the Dark Lord didn't realize why it took Severus so long to call Him.

"Who're you?" Severus's eyes snapped open. "Where am I? Where's Mum and Dad?"

"Shut up, boy," Severus growled. He gave his mind another once-over, and then he pressed the Mark on his arm.

 _Ssseverus,_ the Dark Lord hissed through his mind. Severus fell to his knees.

"My Lord," he gasped out. Most would say that they felt Legilimency in their head, but Severus always found it to be a full body experience. Of course, the Dark Lord was hardly gentle as he tore through his thoughts, his memories. It was a violation, pure and simple, his Master thrusting into him, grasping at his deepest places and twisting them until they were exposed, ugly and pulsating, to all the world. Severus had never bothered to hide his fear and revulsion at these moment. His Master expected nothing less.

 _Why have you disturbed me, my Severus?_

"My Lord, we have found Harry Potter." A burst of gleeful anticipation broke over Severus like a strong gust of wind.

 _My, my, this is a lovely surprise. You and your Unmarked will be greatly rewarded when I return to you._

"I live to serve you, my Lord."

 _I will come to you in three days. You may hurt the boy, make him bleed, make him fear, but do not kill him. That pleasure shall be only for me._

"Of course. Thank you, my Lord." One last wave of horrifying intrusion and his Master left. Severus stood shakily, letting his sleeve fall back over the Dark Mark and pulling in deep breaths. He opened his eyes to find startlingly green ones staring at him.

"Are you okay?" the boy said. Severus felt his jaw clench.

"I'm fine," he snapped. "You, on the other hand, will not be."

"Do you know where Mum is? She told me to stay by her, but I wanted to see the Qui – Qui – the broomsticks an' stuff. She's looking for me right now, I bet."

"I'm sure you're right," Severus said softly. He knew that he would have to edit this conversation later, but he couldn't bring himself to be crueler than he would have to be already.

"Mum's really nice, but she didn't want me to go with her and Dad. I don't know why. I'm not allowed to go _anywhere_."

"A wise decision. It's a pity that she allowed your father's rashness to overcome her sense."

"Why's your invis'ble friend so mean?" Severus stifled an unexpected laugh at that. "It's okay, I won't tell. I have lots of invis'ble friends. There's a centaur named Hilbert an' the Bald Prince an' a pig who thinks he's my cousin, but he isn't, because that doesn't make any sense." Harry paused, looking thoughtful. "None of them are mean, though. Why's your invis'ble friend mean to you? Friends should be nice."

"I was not speaking with an 'invisible friend.' I was," Severus swallowed, "I was informing my Master of your capture. In three days' time, He will come here."

"Oh. Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"He intends to reward me beyond my wildest dreams. So yes, Mr. Potter, it is undoubtedly a bad thing."

"That doesn't make sense."

"It doesn't have to." Severus rubbed his eyes. "My apologies."

"What a 'pologies?"

"It means that I'm sorry, very sorry, for what's going to happen to you. Believe me, if I had any choice in the matter…"

"Is your Mum making you?"

"What?"

"Mum makes me do things I don't wanna sometimes. Like eat cabbage! Is your Mum making you talk to your invis'ble friend?"

"No, my mistakes are my own."

"So you don't _have_ to do whatever you're doing."

"Do you have any idea what the Dark Lord-" Severus cut himself off. "Of course you don't, you're five. Apologies. I… forgot, for a moment."

"That's silly," the boy said with a giggle.

"Indeed." Severus stood reluctantly. "I… I regret what must happen. To you. I…" He shook his head. "I am truly sorry."

"What's gonna happen?" Severus didn't answer. He couldn't. All he could do was leave the boy to his fate.

Fellows and the other two new recruits he had been given charge of, Winston Porter and Septimus Yarrow, were waiting for him in the sitting room of the old house that served as one of the Dark Lord's many bases. This was a relatively minor one, and not worth the trouble of the Order shutting it down, for which Severus was guiltily grateful. He had no desire to face the Order in battle.

"Well," Fellows said eagerly, "what did our Master have to say?"

"He will come in three days," Severus said. "You three are welcome to torture Potter, but the Dark Lord intends to kill the boy himself."

"Damn," Yarrow said, "I suppose that means that I shouldn't use your little severing charm, should I?"

"I wouldn't suggest it," Severus said dryly. "The Dark Lord wants the boy to stand in front of him when he kills him, so I would also suggest not damaging him physically, at least not greatly." It was risky to embellish the Dark Lord's directives, but all of the plans that had been brewing at the back of Severus's mind involved somehow getting Harry beyond the wards that surrounded the base, so he couldn't risk the boy being unable to stand, much less run.

"Fine," Fellows said. "Come on, boys. I want to see how the kid looks when 'e's screaming."

"Do what you will. I have potions to brew," Severus said. Fellows gave him a sympathetic look.

"Too bad, Mr. Snape, missin' all the fun."

"There is no greater pleasure to me than to serve the Dark Lord."

"See, tha's why you're 'is favorite," Fellows said admiringly. "You're always so good at bein' 'is." Severus didn't dignify her brownnosing with a response, instead going upstairs to the small room he had commandeered as a potions lab.

After a few moments, the screaming begins. Severus forced himself to remain impassive, taking out the ingredients to prepare a large batch of the Blood Replenishing Potion. Brewing potions was one of the few times when he allowed himself to consciously scheme in the service of the Order, since modifying those memories was a simple matter of concentrating on the part of his mind wrapped up in the potion and locking away the rest. Bringing the plans that had been in the back of his mind for the last two hours, he began to consider the different threads of thought, discarding and keeping them in turn.

No plan will guarantee the boy's safety, of course, but Severus couldn't imagine simply doing nothing. It had been one thing when he had thought the Dark Lord would come immediately, but now… now there was a chance. Severus had three days to find a way to save the Chosen One, and he wasn't planning on giving the boy up to his Master until he had damn well exhausted all other options.


	2. Chapter 2

_August 4_ _th_ _, 1985_

Harry wasn't crying.

He had been crying when the evil people had been hurting him, even though he was a big boy and didn't cry like a baby anymore, not very often. He hadn't realized what they were going to do, at first. He hadn't known that magic could hurt like that.

But that had been earlier. He was still hurting, long shivers of pain clenching up and down his body, but he didn't think he had any more tears left. All he could do anymore was whimper and call for Mum and Dad. They weren't there. Why weren't they there?

It was late when the door opened. Harry whimpered a little, even though he didn't think it would do much good. They were just going to hurt him again.

"Shh, it's me." Harry perked up. It was the man from before, the nice man who had said sorry.

"Is Mum here now?" he asked hopefully. The man shook his head, his mouth twisting downwards. He pulled two small, stoppered bottles from his robes.

"Here, drink this," he said, handing Harry one of them. Harry drank it, screwing his nose up at the taste of dirty socks, and immediately felt the pain and tremors start to ease. "Shit, you're too trusting. You didn't even know what was in that bottle, I could have poisoned you or – or hurt you."

"You wouldn't do that, though," Harry said. The man blinked at him. He looked surprised. "You're nice."

"I am not nice," the man muttered, sounding like he didn't mean for Harry to hear him. "Look, you can't just – just trust people like this. There are a lot of people, bad people, who want you dead. Please tell me you have even a modicum of self-preservation."

"Bad people like your friends?"

"They are _not_ my friends," the man spat. He ran a hand through his hair.

"Why's your hair so shiny?" Harry asked.

"It's not shiny, it's greasy," the man said. "And it's genetics. Bad luck."

"Oh," Harry said. "You shouldn't have bad luck. You're nice."

"That's the second time you've said that. I'm beginning to think that Fellows hit you on the head harder than she thought."

"Well, it's true. You're nice. You gave me that potion, and I'm not hurt anymore." The man scowled.

"You shouldn't have been hurt in the first place," he said.

"Is this one of those things that's not your choice?" Harry said. "Like cabbage?"

"Yes, this is like cabbage," the man said. He didn't look _happy_ , but his scowl wasn't quite so scowl-y, so Harry thought he had had a little success. "I am – I am trying to help you, you know." The man's eyes widened. "Don't tell anyone I said that."

"Okay," Harry agreed. The man nodded and handed Harry the other potion. Harry drank it, grinning when it tasted much nicer than the other one. "What did that one do?"

"It's a sleeping potion," the man said. "I have no intention of having you wake me up with any foolish nightmares." Harry nodded.

"You're nice," he said again, as seriously as he could manage when he was quickly falling asleep.

"Don't be an idiot," the man said. "If I was nice, you wouldn't be here."

 _August 5_ _th_ _, 1985_

Harry didn't know what time he woke up. The room he was in didn't have any windows. The door opened, and he whimpered when he saw that it was the woman and one of the men who had been mean before. He was relieved, however, to see the nice man come in behind them. Maybe it wouldn't hurt as bad with the nice man there.

"Look at 'im, curled up all scared," the woman said gleefully. "So this is the Chosen One. 'E don't seem like all that if 'e's scared of a little Cruciatus. Why don't you show 'im, Yarrow?"

"With pleasure," the mean man, Yarrow, said. He pointed his wand at Harry, and Harry looked at the nice man, trying to do his best puppy dog eyes. Uncle Padfoot always said that no one could resist Harry's puppy dog eyes. To his surprise, the nice man's wand was also out and pointed at him, and the man was muttering something under his breath.

"Please-" Harry said.

" _Crucio_ ," said Yarrow.

It was different from the day before. At first the pain was the same, just as horrible, but then it seemed to recede a little. It was like Harry was feeling through a very thick blanket. He was still jerking around uncontrollably, still screaming, but it didn't… it didn't seem like it was happening to him. Harry looked up at the nice man and saw that his jaw was clenched very hard and he was very pale.

If Harry hadn't been screaming, he would have grinned. The nice man _was_ nice, no matter what he seemed to think. He was protecting Harry.

The mean people tried to hurt him for a long time, but the nice man kept protecting him the whole time. Finally the two mean people left the room and Harry and the nice man were left alone. Harry looked up at the nice man with a smile, trying to ignore the tremors that ran through him. Even though they didn't really hurt, they were still annoying.

"Here," the man said, handing Harry the same two potions as before. "They won't come back tonight. I'm sending them out to – out. I don't trust them alone with you, and I have a meeting."

"Is it with your invis'ble friend?" Harry asked. The man shook his head.

"No, it's with someone else. I'm hoping," the man paused, looking upset for some reason, "I'm hoping that he'll be able to assist me."

"What do you need 'sisting for?"

"I have two days before my Master returns. If all goes well, you will not be here when He comes."

"And your meeting will help?"

"Yes," the man said. "Now, take your potions. No more talking." Harry took the dirty socks potion and the better tasting potion and settled down to sleep.

"You're nice," he said. Maybe if he said it enough, the nice man would start to believe it. The nice man snorted, but he didn't deny it in words, which Harry counted as an improvement. The door locked behind the man, and Harry let himself fall all the way asleep. No one would be able to hurt him, not with the nice man looking out for him.

That night, Harry had a really weird dream. He was in a long, dark hallway. At the end of the hallway he could see a door that was cracked open, warm firelight spilling out and voices murmuring within. Harry crept forward, straining to hear. When he came to the end of the hallway, he slipped into the room. He gasped in delight. The nice man was there, pacing in front of the fire. There was another man there, who looked a little familiar, but Harry couldn't remember where he had seen him before. He was really old, with a long, white beard and sky blue robes.

"The boy is, thus far, physically unharmed," the nice man said, his voice quick and low. "He has been tortured, of course, but I have attempted to mitigate the damage."

"Sit down, my boy. You'll wear yourself out," said the old man.

"Headmaster, I cannot stay long. I sent Fellows, Porter, and Yarrow out on a raid, but I don't trust them not to return and do worse in my absence." Still, the nice man sat. "I need your help. I have a plan, but-"

"Are you certain that is wise?" the old man said. The nice man looked dumbstruck.

"Har – Potter is the Chosen One. I have heard the prophecy just as you have, even if I didn't hear it all. It is imperative that we stage a rescue as quickly as possible. In two days' time-"

"In two days' time, Voldemort will return." The nice man flinched. "You have already told me this, Severus. The question is, what should we do in that time?" Harry grinned. He finally knew the nice man's name.

"You should find a way to rescue him, of course!" Severus said. "Headmaster, if the Dark Lord kills the boy, the war will be lost."

"Perhaps," Headmaster said. "It is not wise to put too much stock in prophecies, my boy. It may be better to allow Voldemort to confront Harry. If he truly has the power to vanquish the Dark Lord…"

"He is a child. You can't honestly believe-"

"I believe that, if allowed to attempt to circumvent the prophecy, Voldemort may, in fact, bring about its conclusion." The old man glanced over at Severus, whose face was twisted with anger. "Do not pretend to be surprised, my boy. You know better than most the risks and sacrifices that this war asks of us."

"Yes, I do," Severus said. "Is it really so surprising, then, that when I have a chance to save someone, to do something _fucking_ good, I try to do it?"

"Severus…" The old man looked so deeply sad that Harry wanted to give him a hug, even if he was talking about letting Severus's Master hurt Harry.

"No, Headmaster. I won't – I _can't_ just let Harry die. I had hoped that you would help me, make it look like an Order raid, but I can see that it was too much to expect you to make my job easier."

"Severus, try to understand-"

"Oh, I understand. I understand that you're treating a child like you treat your spies." Severus stood. "Don't worry, Headmaster. My cover will stay intact. Expect the boy back within the next two days. I will likely follow shortly thereafter. The Dark Lord is hardly forgiving of failure, after all, and I'm about to fail Him quite terribly." Severus swept out of the room, tense and angry. The old man stared into the flames, letting out a deep, bone-weary sigh.

"Good luck, my boy," he whispered, as though he didn't believe that anything Severus did could result in good things happening.


	3. Chapter 3

_August 6_ _th_ _, 1985_

Severus weighed the Knut in his hand, considering the small bronze coin carefully. He was no expert in Transfiguration, which Portkey creation was a subset of, but he thought that he had it right. He would have preferred to consult with Prof- with Minerva, of course, but he didn't have the time. His Master would be returning that night, and with him he would bring sure death to Harry Potter. Severus, no matter his mistakes and tangled loyalties, was not like so many of the Death Eaters, torturing and killing with a sense of satisfaction or even joy. Or, at least, he liked to think that he was not like them, which amounted to the same thing in the end.

Of course, as a spy in the service of two Master Legilimens, his mind was hardly its own place.

He brought his wand over the Knut yet again, testing it, and as far as he could tell the Transfiguration was holding. It would take Harry Potter to the Order's headquarters, safe and sound. The boy would live, and Severus would get the satisfaction of being able to save someone right before getting it knocked right out of him again by the torture that was sure to follow.

Because, really, Severus knew that at this point he was just putting it off. He was afraid, afraid that his plan wouldn't work, afraid that his true loyalties (whatever those were) would be revealed to his Master, and most of all he was afraid of the pain he knew was coming. It was pathetic, sure, but he didn't want to be tortured. He had seen and, on occasion, felt enough of what the Dark Lord could do, and he had no desire to bring His wrath down upon him.

Severus dropped the Knut into his pocket and went to relieve Fellows from the task of guarding Harry. He would do what he had to.

"You may go," he said, nodding at her. She grinned back, looking far too much like Bellatrix for his liking. Predatory. Dangerous.

"Go an' 'ave fun, then," she said. Severus twitched his lips into a small smirk as he entered the room where the boy was being kept.

"Hi!" the boy said. "Are you gonna give me more po-"

" _Imperio_ ," Severus said. Harry Potter's mind offered him no resistance, how could it? A five-year-old was no match for a seasoned Death Eater. "When I leave the room, you will run out of this house and into the woods. When you leave the wards, you will take this coin," he slipped the Knut into the boy's pocket, "and say 'Lily.' You will then go into the house there and find someone you know and trust. Tell no one that I helped you unless I give you permission."

"Okay," the boy said. Severus relaxed slightly and waited. Far above them, a cauldron he had so carelessly left on the heat exploded, and he raced out of the room, leaving the door flapping behind him. He glanced back, just for a moment, and saw the boy dashing out of the room and turning down the hallway.

By the time that Severus made it to his makeshift lab, Fellows, Yarrow, and Porter had already contained the mess. Porter immediately turned to him and started to complain. Severus only half-listened to him, mentally calculating how long it would take the boy to make it to the edge of the wards in the woods, trying to figure out how long he could risk dithering in the lab. After a full minute (in which Yarrow had joined in the chastisement), he let his eyes suddenly grow wide.

"Oh, _shit_ ," he said.

"What is it?" Porter groaned.

"Shut up," Severus snapped. "I ran up here so fast – But I just wanted to make sure no one had gotten hurt. Oh my God, He's going to kill me. I'm so dead."

"What t'e fuck 'ave you done?" said Fellows.

"I left the damn door open!" Fellows cursed again and ran down the stairs, Severus right at her heels. Sure enough, the boy's door was wide open. They looked down the hallway and saw that the door to the outside was opened as well.

"Oh, Merlin, what are we going to do now?" said Yarrow.

"He'll kill us all, you know he will," said Porter with a kind of rough matter-of-fact-ness. "Might as well start writing out our epitaphs, since there won't be any family left to write them when He's gotten to them as well."

"I will be taking full responsibility," Severus said. All three of the young Unmarked looked at him, faces ranging from controlled surprise (Porter) to outright shock (Yarrow). "It was my mistake and mine alone. You may, of course, feel his displeasure nonetheless, but you will not be killed." Severus's own fate was far more uncertain, although he didn't really believe that his life was in danger. The Dark Lord, no matter how evil and maniacal, was a Slytherin, and any true Slytherin would know that it was pure folly to give up a spy, especially one as well-placed as he was. Risking his own safety by telling the Dark Lord the "truth" would solidify any sort of alliance that Porter, Yarrow, and Fellows might have been considering with him.

He ordered the others upstairs, and then he prepared himself to contact his Master. If he didn't, the torture would only be worse.

 _Severus, what is it?_

"Master, I have grave news. I have failed you." The way the Dark Lord tore through his mind was as expected as it was painful.

 _What is the meaning of this?_ Severus stifled a scream as he grabbed his left forearm. It felt like his Mark had acid poured on it, like it was on fire, like-

"My Lord, in my panic at the idea that one of my Unmarked may have been injured by the explosion, I neglected to lock the door behind me. Harry Potter has escaped."

 _You have failed me, Severus._ Severus gulped, screwing up his eyes against the tears that threatened to pour out. "You have failed me very badly." He looked up, and standing there was his Master.

"Master, I-"

"I will listen to no excuses, not from you," the Dark Lord said coldly. "You will be punished, Severus. You will beg for me to stop, but I will not. Deep down you know you deserve it. You have failed me so utterly. And then, when I am done, perhaps I will show you mercy and kill you."

"My Lord-" Severus didn't have time to brace himself further.

" _Crucio_."


End file.
